Missing Socks
by Grey Like Stormy Skies
Summary: A night in the Marauder’s dorm room, during which James loses his socks, Sirius schemes, and Remus tries to sleep...  [Marauder Oneshot]


_**Missing Socks**_

"I need my socks." James Potter was standing the middle of his dorm room, his eyes darting from a pile of dirty clothes to a questionable object vaguely resembling an old sandwich, and then back again quickly. "Where are my socks?"

"Wherever you last left them!" Sirius Black cried from the bathroom, though his words were slightly muffled from the toothbrush in his mouth.

"I meant a bit more specifically, wanker," James muttered, kicking a stray trainer as he stomped over to his bed. "Now where the bloody hell are they?"

"They're neon green Potter, they can't be that hard to find," Remus remarked, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. "Here Pete, you left your Potions book downstairs," Remus said, tossing the book in the general direction of Peter's bed, where the boy was trying to sleep. There was a dull thud, and a grunt was heard from under the pile of blankets. "Ah. Sorry, Wormtail."

"Did I hear Potions book?" Sirius said, walking in and looking to Remus. "Meaning there was work assigned?"

"Essay on Essence of Silence potion," Remus said tiredly, changing into his pajamas.

"Essence of Silence? Sounds like something we could use…" Sirius said, a devilish look on his face as he grabbed a green notebook off the night table next to James and launched himself onto his bed. Remus eyed his friend warily before climbing into his own bed.

"If I were a pair of socks, where would I be? Where would _socks_ be…? Where would socks _be_?" James was muttering to himself, pacing back and forth over a wrinkled set of robes.

"As far away from your feet as possible, if they had a choice." Sirius looked up from his scribblings grinning widely, and a snort of laughter could be heard from Peter's bed.

"Aw sod off, Black. At least I don't wear a shirt that fit me thirteen years ago to sleep every night," James said, nudging a pile of clothes with his left foot while holding onto the banister of his bed with his right hand. Remus tried to close his eyes, and block out the annoying voices of his best friends.

"No, you just wear the same pair of socks. And for you information this shirt didn't start fitting till I was at least twelve, it was too big all before that. And it was a gift, you prat." Sirius had looked up from his notebook for a moment to look at James, before going back to his planning, an excited and amused grin stuck on his face.

"Whatever suits you. And what is wrong with wearing socks to bed? It's not like I don't wash them…occasionally. Besides, the feeling of being barefoot in a bed is disgusting, I don't know how you live with yourself," James said, glaring at his best friend before picking the duvet off his bed and shaking it.

"Probably the same as how _you_ live with me," Sirius said, an amused grin still on his face.

"Piss off. And anyway, stop distracting me, this is a serious problem. Wormtail, have you seen my socks?" James asked, repeatedly poking the comforter that was currently covering his friend's face.

"Which ones?" Peter's voice was muffled and slurred as he stuck his head out of his duvet; he was only half-awake, after all. He was rubbing his left eye, as a well-placed poke of James' had caught him with his eyes half-open.

"What socks? _What socks?_ Wormtail! The same socks I wear to bed every night! They are green, and soft, and go right up to HERE!" James cried out, pulling up his pant leg slightly to point to the exact spot where his socks would have ended, had he been wearing them.

"Oh. Ah. Those socks?" Peter was shifting uncomfortably under his blankets now, reaching for his feet.

"Yes, Wormtail, those socks. And I _need_ to find them!" James cried out, walking back over to his bead and now shifting through a large pile of dirty clothes.

"Prongs, why don't you just wear a different pair," Remus said from his bed, rolling over to face the wall so as to hide from the reaction he knew his best friend was about to have.

"Wear different socks? _Wear different socks_? Moony! I expected better from you! You _know_ that those are the _only _socks I could ever wear to bed! Do I need to tell you the story again?"

"No!" The other three boys cried out, and James frowned. His eyes scanned the room once more, and he let out a joyful cry.

"MY SOCKS!" He grabbed them up off the floor, where they had been sitting quite obviously in the middle of the room.

Remus and Sirius both turned to look where the socks had been, and began laughing.

"Prongs, did you seriously miss them being there all this time?" Sirius said, still laughing .

"They were not there before, I checked! I checked everywhere! Moony, did you put them there!" James demanded, turning to look at the werewolf who was still currently grinning at his friend. He shook his head amusedly, saying, "No Prongs, wasn't me."

"Padfoot? Was it you? Cause y'know, it wasn't funny. Not at all. I was about to go and steal my sister's pair from her, and you know that would have caused some sort of battle."

"Battle?" Sirius said, laughing again at James' ridiculous antics. "Mate, you need some sleep. And 'course it wasn't me; you know I'd've done something much more clever than just place them in the middle of the floor," Sirius said, winking.

"Wormtail, then! It was you!" James cried out, rounding on the boy who had slipped himself back under the covers.

"I've been asleep this entire time," Peter said, his voice muffled once again under his blankets.

James glared at all three of his friends, and then pulled his socks on, ignoring the fact that they were questionably warm. Sirius finished whatever he was writing in that green notebook, and placed it on his own night table. Both friends climbed into their respective beds, and the lights were turned off.

"Sweet dreams, Prongsie."

"Piss off, Padfoot."

"Night, Moony."

"Goodnight, Sirius."

"Night, Wormtail."

"You too, Padfoot."

"Goodnight, sock-stealer."

Silience.

"Jiminy. Did you really think someone would answer?"

"You never know."

"Yeah. Right."

"And hey, I thought I told you not to call me that."

"How many things have you told me not to call you?"

"Touché."

* * *

A/N: If you recognize this, it's because it's reposted, so no worries… 

I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions, and would appreciate it greatly if you just took a minute to leave a review. Thanks!


End file.
